


Pointless Fencing

by Accestii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, Fencing, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accestii/pseuds/Accestii
Summary: When he was little, someone told Bokuto that every other sport besides fencing was pointless. Their plans to make that a joke were certainly foiled, because Bokuto grew to fence-y the sport and scored a ticket to the Olympics. Bokuto never did find fencing a bout of trouble, until the sport lunged him into Akaashi. Now, Bokuto is forced to think about a sport that never really kept him past lunge-time.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24
Collections: Haikyuu Olympics Bang





	1. Chapter 1

_ Bokuto and the Sword _

_ A Short Poem by Koutarou Bokuto (That’s me!!) _

_ There once was a boy with a sword _

_ And all of his coolness was stored _

_ In Bokuto’s hand _

_ Whenever he would land _

_ The pointy part on- _

__ __ __ _ \-- _

__ __ __ __ __ __ _ \-- _

“Kuroo, I hurt myself again!"

Why in the world was the tip of a fencing sword so pointy? 

Bokuto watched his finger burst as Kuroo scraped his heels against the ground. Kuroo was slower than a snail drowning in syrup. He was slower than the clock on a Friday afternoon. At this rate, Bokuto was going to bleed out and die before he even got to taste the glory of winning a beautiful, tasty gold medal. 

“It’s okay now, Bokuto. Mommy’s here.” Kuroo stood tall above Bokuto’s trembling figure, dressed with a smirk. Bokuto opened his mouth to speak but shut it just as fast. In this case, his issue was more important than… than… his pride! If Bokuto’s index finger ran out of blood, how was he supposed to hold his sword? It wasn’t like his other fingers were strong enough! Kuroo’s fingers, though, made rounds around Bokuto’s hand, wrapping him in miles and miles of sports tape. 

“Are you trying to turn me into a mummy?” Bokuto asked. He thrust his limp hands out for his friend to see. Kuroo’s handiwork was fabulous. If Kuroo wrapped his entire body, Bokuto would have a suit good enough for the pros. He wouldn’t be playing on elementary school cushions anymore. No, he was in the big leagues now. He would need a suit strong enough to protect him from those finger cutters. 

Bokuto threw his head back as Kuroo took his sweet time with the tape. He was as slow with the tape as he was getting to Bokuto. He let out a groan, forcing his eyes wide open. Looking upside-down, Bokuto could count 5… 6… no, 7 people in the gym. They all had large eyebags, and staying in the gym wasn’t going to do them any favors. The competition would kill them in no time. Bokuto tossed his head back up with a cocky glimmer in his eyes, only to see his finger wrapped up in a coffin made of tape. 

“Kuroo! I can’t move my finger!” he cried. They were taped shut, but at least he wasn’t bleeding? He shook his hand. His finger wiggled a millimeter before stopping. They were stiffer than anything on Earth at that point. Worse of all, he couldn’t feel his fingers. He. Couldn’t. Feel. His. Fingers! What if he was bleeding out? He’d turn into a prune! What if his bones broke and he couldn’t feel it? Kuroo was trying to kill him!

“Kuroo should wrap your head in tape too. Then you wouldn’t think too hard about all this.” A tall, powerful person loomed above both Kuroo and Bokuto. His intimidating presence was tattered by the suit on his back. His suit looked like it would jump at any moment, with the helmet better fitting his torso than his head. Behind worn sports glasses were even more worn eyes, glaring the energy out of his body. 

“You’re one to talk, specs!” Bokuto cried, “You always mumble about how hard it is to fence! You’re the one who should stop thinking for a change!” Bokuto laughed in triumph, ignoring murmurs of “it’s Tsukishima.” Bokuto spoke the truth, anyways. All his opponents were scared of him, scared of his fiery approaches in matches. It was like playing a game of go-fish. All Bokuto had to do was find the right move and execute it. It was an easy two-step victory, so easy that Bokuto never thought twice about it. Other sports must be so much easier. After all, his dad told him that other sports were pointless. Only fencing had a point! Since then, Bokuto dedicated himself to the only sport that made sense. 

Bokuto stretched the tape with his fingers, laughing as it moved about. He could feel the hot gaze of everyone around him. They were probably thinking he was an idiot, but that was okay! All the better to beat them with. The tape strained itself further and further as Bokuto watched until, in its last moments, it sprang into confetti. It fell around Bokuto, leaving him with himself, his finger, and a mess. 

“Kuroo!” he shouted again, “I need your help!” The entire room wasn’t watching him anymore and rather Kuroo, who had his signature smile stretched across his face. 

“Bo, are you sure you can’t do this yourself?”

“No,” Bokuto pouted, “I’d mess it up and you know it.” Kuroo laughed at Bokuto’s ever pitiful face and strolled over to Tsukishima, where the two whispered in each other’s ear. Bokuto’s eyes narrowed. They were talking about how dumb he was, wasn’t he. Their signature gazes™ had no mercy in them whatsoever. Well. That was fine. It wasn’t like Bokuto cared anyways. They would get along perfectly without them. Bokuto turned himself around with his feet, curled up into a ball. He couldn’t stand to watch them anymore. If he didn’t look, he wouldn’t see them get all lovey-dovey. Bokuto sat and sat there. It took a while before someone decided to talk to him. 

When a delicate touch grazed his back, Bokuto spun around instantly, springing himself up to meet face to face with his pursuer. Kuroo looked just as happy with his red-flushed face and his love-struck eyes. 

“You up for a match, big guy?” Kuroo smiled, “A little practice before the games tomorrow?” Bokuto glanced behind him then spun his head around, mouth agape with surprise. 

“You think you can take me on? Huh, tough guy?” Bokuto teased, “Bring it on!” He pointed his finger at Kuroo, looking everywhere but on the injury on his finger. Like knights, they strut to their respective sides and armed themselves with gear. The Olympics gear was a lot tougher than anything he had ever worked with. Bokuto knocked on the mask, producing a metallic noise. Swords wouldn’t be able to do any more damage to him. He would be safe for now. 

Once the clunky suit was on, Bokuto turned around, sword pointed towards his friend. Kuroo was all talk. He had no balls to his name, despite his appearance. Never went for the attack, never went for the counter-attack. It was like fencing against a stone wall. Kuroo’s sword, though, was pointed straight at Bokuto. It glimmered with confidence, as did his eyes and his smile. 

“Are you ready for me to  _ foil  _ your plans, Bo?” he sneered. 

“The only way you’ll do that is if you’re on  _ point, _ Kuroo!” Bokuto retorted, “Let’s make this a quick one! Five points!” They saluted, throwing their masks on. Preparing his stance, he turned to Tsukishima, who was sweating himself dead in his suit. “Glasses, be fair, okay? And say the line!” 

Tsukishima scoffed, averting his gaze from the both of them. “I’m not saying the line.”

“Say it!” Bokuto sulked, “Or I’m gonna tell the reporters tomorrow that you have a special someone!” To which Tsukishima’s glare grew even hotter. His eyes met Kuroo’s, whose smile was glowing through the mask. Tsukishima sank deep into his suit. 

“En garde…” Bokuto raised his sword, as did his opponent. They were teasing the line, edging as close as they could. “Prêts…” Should Bokuto lunge straight out? It would be a dumb move, especially since they warmed up so little. But Kuroo was a weak fencer. He wouldn’t parry it. 

“Allez!” Bokuto thrust himself forward in a lunge, waving his sword in the air. As expected, Kuroo lept back, watching the tip of the sword wave about. Bokuto had to watch his elbow. If Kuroo saw him hesitate for even just a second, the priority would be his, and Bokuto would have to play defensive. But since Bokuto started the attack, Kuroo was at his mercy. With the priority, all he had to do was strike. He stared at Kuroo’s chest. His torso was well-guarded in the sixte position. Kuroo could just sit and wait for a mistake unless Bokuto went for…

… his shoulder! 

“Wow Bo,” Kuroo said, “You really got me there.” Bokuto stared at his chest. A sword poked his suit, directly at his stomach. Bokuto stared at his sword, buried well into Kuroo’s shoulder. 

“No, no, no.” Bokuto shook his head. “I got you. Right, spectacles?” Tsukishima looked at Kuroo with thought, then gave a sugar-coated frown. 

“Sorry, Bokuto. You pulled your elbow back before attacking.” Bokuto groaned, watching Tsukishima smile at Kuroo’s cheeky grin. 

“That’s not fair! You’re totally egging him on!” Bokuto protested. 

“Well, it’s so hard for me to tell,” Tsukishima responded, “I mean, the equipment here is nonexistent.” Bokuto sighed. The fancy fencing equipment wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow. It was a weird oversight, but for now, they would just have to use regular swords. The pointy ones. That hurt.

Bokuto dragged his feet across the mat. The piste’s lines were worn. If Bokuto edged his feet closer to the line, he’d be able to jump Kuroo before he could blink. 

You know, if Kuroo didn’t have the same idea. 

They met face-first, or rather mask-first, in the middle of the mat. This time, Kuroo attacked first, pointing himself as straight as an arrow. From reflex, Bokuto broke into a cross-step, bringing his body back with normal steps. It left him teetering on the edges of the mat, which Tsukishima would take advantage of without blinking. Moving from desperation, Bokuto threw his hand as far as he could into the air, hoping to catch Kuroo’s blade. 

Out of sheer luck, the blades slammed against each other, a clean parry to mess Kuroo up. Bokuto had the priority now. His feet stepped back into position, allowing him to straighten his arm towards the center of Kuroo’s torso. Kuroo’s sword was too high, leaving a nice, open spot for Bokuto. As soon as it hit, Bokuto could hear Kuroo's sword wiggling just above his ear. An invalid hit! 

“Kuroo,” Bokuto said, wearing a serious look on his face, “you really got me there.” Tsukishima and Kuroo shared a groan as Bokuto laughed away. Kuroo could have easily parried but did he? Nope! A decisive victory for Bokuto, as it should be!

The two stepped back to the on-guard line. Only 30 seconds had passed, but it felt like the night was throwing itself away. Bokuto would have to score a few more clear points before Tsukishima stopped paying attention. On “Allez,” Bokuto took a step back and watched Kuroo’s stance. He was playing it safe again, his sword level at the sixte position. There was no spring to his step, all energy going into watching. If Bokuto attacked first, he’d be stabbed in no time. 

Bokuto took up a septime position, putting his sword as low as he could. He relaxed his muscles, relieving his tension. He’d let Kuroo attack first. He was completely open bait, which Kuroo completely fell for. As soon as Bokuto lowered his elbow, Kuroo dashed forward, aiming for his shoulder. He was intimidating on the attack, but Bokuto read his entire plan. His shoulder lowered just before contact, forcing Kuroo to lose his step. Out of surprise, his elbow drew back, to which Bokuto smiled. 

“Ah, that elbow!” he exclaimed, twirling his sword on Kuroo’s chest. “You have to watch that elbow, Kuroo, or you’re gonna lose!” Bokuto only needed 3 more points. With Kuroo getting increasingly annoyed, it would be child’s play. Though, Tsukishima was starting to get wary. He wouldn’t let Kuroo’s pride be scraped, much less hurt. 

Kuroo threw himself for the attack again, this time disguising his attack. Bokuto lept back, walking towards the warning line. Kuroo had him locked. If Bokuto tried to parry, Kuroo could manipulate his sword to bend and hit his exposed lower body. He couldn’t go back forever, though. If he fell off the mat, Kuroo would get another point. Bokuto spared a glance at Tsukishima. Sure enough, his eyes were locked onto Bokuto, watching for a mistake. Bokuto was going to lose this point. His pride would be damaged, but Tsukishima wouldn’t murder him because of it. It would be better to win the judge’s best graces. With clumsy steps, Bokuto fell off the piste and collapsed on the floor. 

“Argh!” Bokuto said, “You sure got me.” He squirmed on the floor from his complete and utter loss, with Kuroo laughing over him. 

“You see, Bokuto? You’re getting soft!” Kuroo exclaimed. Tsukishima’s glare was a lot softer than before. Bokuto signed in his mask. He made the correct move. Points-wise, though, he was suffering. 2-1 with the fatigue starting to get comfortable in his body. Bokuto could walk home and sleep, though the big bad Olympic people would probably stop him. What a dilemma. 

The on-guard line watched as Bokuto and Kuroo butt heads again. They were both cocky in their step, Bokuto especially. If he knew anything about the bedhead in front of him, it was that he took forever to prepare. His attacks were like how he put on sports tape; slow. An amateur would be surprised at his speed, but Bokuto knew his friend. He stared straight into the tip of the blade and watched Kuroo approach. If he waited a little longer, Kuroo wouldn’t be able to react fast enough to parry. He held his breath, watching the blade come closer. 

Three, two, one… 

Now!

Bokuto pushed his arm forward towards Kuroo’s left. Kuroo only just began to register what was going on when the sword hit his body. It never felt sweeter to be 2-2. 

“Alright!” Bokuto shouted. Before Tsukishima could open his mouth to protest, Bokuto started shouting again. “I’m getting tired of this! Let’s make the next point the last!” He could feel Kuroo’s smile through the mask. Despite his loss, someone was still dripping with confidence. It was time to mess with that arrogant smile. 

“En garde!” Bokuto grit his teeth to keep him still. The next move would be important. It should be decisive enough for Tsukishima. Kuroo should be denied the chance to gain priority altogether. 

“Prêts!” Tsukishima was in the same mood as the beginning of the match. Risky moves would never be credited. What was Kuroo’s favorite position to start with? 

“Allez!” Kuroo drew back in the sixte position once more, eyes watching Bokuto’s every move. Bokuto lunged towards Kuroo for a quick point but was met by a sharp blade. Kuroo was a scared fighter, but not a dumb one. With every jab Bokuto took at Kuroo’s torso, Kuroo was there, parrying each and every one of his attacks. The blades hit each other in violent strokes, bearing the pride of each of their owners. When Bokuto bounced back after a long battle, Kuroo’s sword kept its pride, and with it, the game’s priority. 

Bokuto was in trouble, now. The situation was looking all too familiar, with Bokuto’s steps bringing him closer to a loss. His gloves were drenched in sweat, and his suit was starting to boil him alive. Kuroo’s stance was perfect. There was no way he’d lose a point to a direct attack. It all would come down to how quickly Bokuto could detect Kuroo’s attack. It’d leave Kuroo wide open, leaving it up to Bokuto to finish it off. 

The warning zone welcomed his frantic steps. Kuroo was going to attack to push him off. He had his hand pointed straight, pushing his leg forward. A clever attack, but too little of it was disguised. It was written out neatly for Bokuto. He was going for an arrow attack. 

With a swift shift to the right, Bokuto dodged Kuroo’s attack. Kuroo stumbled forward, waving his sword about. It slammed against Bokuto’s arms and landed dead center on his chest. It was a clean point for Kuroo, no disputes. At least, that’s how it would have been if Bokuto’s sword didn’t graze his chest just seconds before. 

This wasn’t the play Bokuto was going for. It wasn’t even close. If Tsukishima closed his eyes, even for a second, he wouldn’t have seen Bokuto’s jab. And he favored Kuroo over Bokuto for everything. This match would be no exclusion. This was Kuroo’s ultimate scenario. His win was as good as certain. Bokuto looked like a fool in front of Kuroo’s clean hit. Bokuto could feel his chance of getting goldstart to plummet with each growing second. He was going to go home on day one. That wouldn’t look good for Olympic tryouts 4 years from now, but who knows. They’d forget about it like Bokuto always did. 

“Bokuto wins.” 

Tsukishima looked down at the two, still as stone. “He hit Kuroo’s chest just as Kuroo was preparing to hit.” Wait. 

Tsukishima made a fair ruling? 

Bokuto actually won? 

He looked down at Kuroo’s smiling face, then back up at Tsukishima’s equally happy face. Their eyes were back to being pink and gooey but the trickery was still in them. They were setting him up this entire time, weren’t they? 

“Did you set this whole thing up?” Bokuto asked.

“No,” Tsukishima said, “Kuroo wanted to give you a hard time to test you before the games tomorrow.” Not like he was looking at Bokuto, anyway. Kuroo and Tsukishima were giving each other lovey-dovey looks again, smiling away like nothing else mattered to them. Bokuto put his hand on his mouth and gagged, then turned away with a grin. 

Of course he’d win. 

He knew that for the very beginning! 

He was the best fencer in all of Japan! No practice match would ever take that away from him. He clenched his fists together in the air and shook his arms. 

“Hey, hey, hey! I’m coming for that gold medal tomorrow!” 

Bokuto tucked away his sweat-worn suit for the day, happy with winning and happy with pretending not to hear whatever Kuroo and Tsukishima were doing. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "His words! They were beautiful! So innocent! They felt so delicately chosen, and his voice was so smooth! There was so much care in those words! And the name! His name... It was so beautiful and so familiar…"  
> Who ever said there was no point to fencing?

Bokuto was going to melt.

But not from disappointment. 

“Ahaha! Did you see that Kuroo?” Bokuto gleamed, “He really thought he was going to get the best of me! But in the end…” Bokuto stabbed the air with an imaginary sword. “I tripped him up! He’s almost as bad as you!” Kuroo took a step back, a pout on his face. 

“How dare you, Bokuto. You really think I’m that bad?” He stared into Bokuto’s ecstatic eyes and started to laugh. “If I were that bad, then I’d be out already, right?” The two shared a laugh as they made their way to the gym. Reporters around them fled as they strut towards the practice gym. Who could blame them? Two tall men skilled with a sword would be intimidating to talk to for anybody. As they were talking, a gentle touch grazed Bokuto’s back. He turned around to meet Tsukishima looming over both of them. 

“You guys are so mean,” he said, “They worked so hard for their win and this is how you treat them? Come on guys, laugh harder.” Bokuto barked with laughter as Tsukishima and Kuroo joined them, their cynical giggles filling up the room. It took a while before Bokuto could calm down. He stood for a bit, laughing and wiping the tears in his eyes. They were getting too confident, he knew, but why couldn’t they help themselves? They were Japan’s best!

After blinking a couple of times, his eyes showed him a person with a shorter stature. From his height, he looked like a reporter, but a helmet held his arms hostage. Messy, black hair crowned the top of his head. His hands were busy with themselves, fidgeting even with just Bokuto’s lonely presence. Despite that, he looked eerily confident with a stone-faced expression. The few seconds they spent staring at each other felt like a fencing match itself; too long, too exhausting. The person ran towards the practice gym after excruciating seconds, leaving Bokuto alone with his thoughts. 

Oh. He was alone. Kuroo and Tsukishima had left him behind. They were totally making out in the practice gym. Bokuto had… stern… words coming their way, and some tasty rumors for the reporters swarming behind him. 

Bokuto threw the door back and stormed into the practice room. Kuroo had a nice, comfortable chair to sit on, one who spoke and had messy blonde hair. Tsukishima’s face was buried into Kuroo’s shirt, to which the latter looked thrilled. They couldn’t be more obvious, honestly. The gym, though, was mostly empty, with athletes looking forward to lunch rather than practice. He stood at the door, watching his friends. 

“Can’t you guys get a room?” Kuroo spread his arms wide open, gesturing to the open space.

“Bo, this is our room. You don’t have to look.” Bokuto sighed. If a reporter walked in, this wouldn’t be their room anymore. He walked over to the pair and watched Tsukishima bury his face deeper into Kuroo. He looked smaller than both Bokuto and Kuroo. The heat on his cheeks was hot enough for Bokuto to feel, even from standing five feet away. Bokuto figured he should save Tsukishima from his embarrassment, but Kuroo looked very, very comfortable from where he was. 

“Well you can do that later!” Bokuto complained, “I need to practice. We need to practice, or the competition will take you two away.” Kuroo sighed and lowered himself deeper into his “chair.” 

“It’s like, noon, bro. I’ll practice with you later today.” With that, Kuroo turned himself around and parted his lips. And did other, unspeakable things. Bokuto’s frown grew deeper as he reluctantly walked away. It wasn’t like he needed to practice or anything. His fingers started to twitch. He was only looking out for his friends. Yes, that was it. They were ignoring him and there was nothing he could do about it! Bokuto tossed his head back and groaned. 

“Can’t I practice with anybody today?” he cried. 

“I can.” A voice rang from behind Bokuto. He didn’t see anybody else come in, nor did he see any other people in the gym. Was his consciousness talking to him? Was it fate talking to him? Wait. Was he going to die? Bokuto dropped to his knees, clasping his hands together. 

“Wait! I need to earn gold before I can die! Please don’t take me away!” It was too soon to die! Die without any glory to his name! Oh, what a disappointment he would be to Japan! To his friends! To his family and everyone who looked up to him! 

“Ah, behind you,” the voice said. Out of fear, Bokuto spun around to meet… a human? This new figure spoke Japanese perfectly, but as far as Bouto knew, all the translators were on break. Sabre and epee matches were happening right now, too. The only Japanese people in the gym were supposed to be on the foil team, so what was going on? 

Through closer inspection, Bokuto started to remember. The messy black hair was identical to the person from earlier. The emotion seemed to be sucked out of this guy’s face, just like before. . With a quick glance down, Bokuto saw fidgeting hands busier than ever. 

“You’re that guy from earlier!” Bokuto exclaimed. So he was a fencer! And a foil fencer, at that! Bokuto walked around the person, eyeing his build. He was a little shorter than Bokuto was, but to make up for that, there had to be some intelligence behind those eyes. With delicate motions, he could make the blade do his bidding before the opponent could even blink. Bokuto shivered. This person was cold, calculating to the core. He’d be scary to face in the bracket! 

“Yes. I’m Keiji Akaashi. I can help you with- ah, what was the word… s'entraîner…” Bokuto smiled and blinked. He wanted to help with what? Did he need help finding the bathroom?

“Oh.” the kid said, looking away. “Right, it’s ‘practice.’ I can practice with you, if you’d like.” His cheeks grew the slightest shade of pink as his hands hid behind his back. Bokuto barely noticed though, taking several steps backward.

His words! 

They were beautiful! 

So innocent! 

They felt so delicately chosen, and his voice was so smooth! There was so much care in those words! And the name! His name... It was so beautiful and so familiar… His fencing instructor warned him about someone with that very name… 

“You’re Akashi!” Bokuto said, “You’re that Japanese fencer who mysteriously went to play for France! So why’d you do it? Do you have some dark and tragic backstory that caused you to run away from Japan?” Bokuto’s eyebrows raised higher as he kept speaking. “Did you find a cute French girl to run away to? Oh! Did somebody bribe you to play for France? How much money do you make?”

“C’est Akaashi…” he muttered, “I have parents in France, so I figured I should represent them in my first Olympics.” What a touching story! A boy who cared so much about his parents he wanted to represent their country over the country he was raised in! All for his first Olympics! Bokuto touched the spot where his heart was. This innocent boy wanted to play against Bokuto! The popularity he was gaining; it was too much for him! 

“Alright, Akashi! Since you’re so eager for a match, I’ll bite! I’ll show you what fencing really is about! Let’s play to 5 points!” The equipment was thrown on in no time, electric scoring with the works, a familiar comfort at this point. Akaashi’s neutral expression walked all over the on guard line, so confident yet so timid. It walked over and slapped Bokuto across the face. This wouldn’t be like fencing against Kuroo. It wouldn’t be like Tsukishima or his opponent from his first match. This would be a match that tests his strength! He could not lose this one! 

From the distance, Bokuto heard a muffled voice, slower and sappier than usual. “Bo, you better win against this Frenchie!” Kuroo looked up long enough to smile at his friend. He looked flustered beyond repair, enough blush to last him for days. Seemed like Tsukishima was naughtier than Bokuto thought. 

The sappy voice started speaking again. “En guarde…” Kuroo was so slow. Bokuto would be too if Tsukishima was trying to make him blush, but this match was important! They could kiss later! Bokuto had to win now! 

“Tsukishima! Stop it, dummy…. um- prêts!” Rolling his eyes, Bokuto turned to focus on Akaashi. He was too unfazed by what was happening. The handsome, stone wall gave off no sign of insecurity and displayed no plans. Speaking of which, what was Akaashi’s favorite stance? Bokuto knew nothing about this dangerous person. He should’ve done some research before this! 

“Allez!” Worry pushed him backward, pushing him away from the priority. He’d risk losing this point, but he needed to analyze Akaashi first. Akaashi’s sword was in quarte position, or wait… seconde position? Was it in a tierce position before? Akaashi’s sword spun like crazy, taking on multiple positions at first. He was too guarded for attacking, so he must be a defensive player. 

And yet, Akaashi’s feet gave nothing about him away. He was moving towards Bokuto through clean steps, revealing nothing about his plans. If he started to cross-step, Bokuto would be dead where he stood. His speed would be too quick to comprehend. Only Akaashi knew how he was going to attack. He was impossible to read, and with each second that passed, he moved closer and closer towards Bokuto. 

Bokuto’s sword reached for the centerline, but the warning zone greeted him again and again. For every meter he gained, he lost twice as much. Compared to Kuroo, Akaashi was light. His mind was too bright, and he was too fast. Bokuto saw the end of the piste, but Akaashi was still approaching him. 

Wait, the end of the piste? 

He had to move forward! 

He was going to fall off! His sword swung wildly in search of an open spot, but every time, they were parried. In a last-ditch attempt, Bokuto bounced backward keeping his sword straight, hoping to catch even an inch of Akaashi. 

Had it worked, he wouldn’t have been lying on the ground. The streak of light stood above Bokuto, his mask covering any concern he might have had. 

“Bokuto, are you alright?” Oh, poor Bokuto, right? Why would he ask that question now, when Bokuto was already lying down with his failure? “I know this is a practice match, but I really didn’t mean to startle you. I can hold back if you’re still tired.” 

“Don’t hold back.” Bokuto stood up, hoping the mask covered his disappointment. “I need to make sure I can get gold. I need to know!” Bokuto marched back to the piste, wishing that the suit didn’t get so hot. He was tormented enough from losing that point. He didn’t have to cook alive. 

“It’s only a practice match, Bokuto,” Akaashi murmured, “Your worth isn’t tied to mine.” He stood by Bokuto, watching Bokuto’s eyes fly about in his mask. It was obviously a sign of respect or kindness, but all it did was make Bokuto sink further into his suit.

“I guess… but you’re so cool, Akashi! It’s so hard to tell what you’re going to do. It’s like you’re a ninja or something! I wanna be like that, too!” Bokuto pouted. Akaashi’s posture wavered for the slightest second. Behind the mask, Bokuto could see his eyes widen and glimmer, just a bit. As soon as it had happened, though, it disappeared, leaving Akaashi’s brief wonder covered again. 

“It’s Akaashi, Bokuto. Now, let’s get back into the game.” He strutted towards the on guard line once more, leaving Bokuto alone to think. Playing defensive would get him pushed off the mat. He had to attack with everything he had. That would push Akaashi towards the end of the mat, and if Bokuto was lucky, he’d go off the mat for good. He was taller than Akaashi, so wasn’t there a possibility he’d get scared? 

There was only one way to find out. Bokuto dashed over to Akaashi, watching his blade move about. Out of all the fencing techniques Akaashi toyed with, quinte was the least used. His stance remained firm, so Akaashi wouldn’t get pushed back from Bokuto’s attack. If Bokuto watched the cycle of Akaashi’s positions, he’d be able to pick out the point where he was weakest. Akaashi started with his sword at the top right, tierce. He moved it down towards prime position, then to seconde position, then back to tierce. When approached, he’d vary how he was rotating, trying to confuse his opponent. It would all be for nothing, though, because Bokuto had the read on Akaashi. Akaashi’s left shoulder was exposed 80 percent of the time. The only thing left would be to catch the right cycle!

Tierce, prime, seconde… 

Prime, tierce… seconde!

When Akaashi’s blade was diagonal to his shoulder, Bokuto struck, moving faster than he moved all game. The straighter he was, the quicker he’d get to Akaashi. The point was well within his grasp! All he had to do was avoid Akaashi’s arm!

His… arm? 

With a split-second reaction, Akaashi’s arm flew up in an attempt to block the attack. In no time, Bokuto’s blade was wiggling against Akaashi’s suit, but not on the target area. His attack would not count for a point, and worst of all, Akaashi knew every bit of Bokuto’s feeble plan. 

Bokuto. 

Was. 

Stuck. 

He couldn’t play defense, he’d just get pushed to the end of the mat. He was stuck to playing offense, but it was too easy for someone like Akaashi to guess what Bokuto would do. There was no time to come up with a plan. Bokuto forced his eyes open to see himself pointlessly fencing. He could already see his next few moves. He would prepare for an attack and get hit, giving Akaashi the point. 2-0. He would move backward, losing his footing and leaving an opening for Akaashi. 3-0. He would lunge forward out of rage and miss, leaving himself open for Akaashi. By the time Bokuto could see the on guard line clearly again, the score would be 4-0. 

He would be swept clean for the first time since… who knows when. 

That wouldn’t do. He was Bokuto, the top fencer in all of Japan. Japan would never send a fencer that went 5-0 to anybody, especially not the French kid in front of him. Bokuto took the largest breath he could in his mask. He had one last trick up his sleeve. 

“Allez” almost missed Bokuto’s ears as he advanced towards Akaashi. There was no telling what Akaashi would do next, but if Bokuto tapped the end of his blade, he’d be able to provoke him into moving. That was Bokuto’s plan. As he moved closer to his opponent, Bokuto’s confidence grew. His instructor told him this was the best way to read a fencer. How could he forget? With another shaky breath, Bokuto tapped Akaashi’s blade. 

The reaction was spontaneous. 

Akaashi leaped forward as soon as the swords grazed each other. He wouldn’t let Bokuto take the priority, not for a second. Bokuto could feel the power coursing through Akaashi’s attack, but he stood his ground, slowing the attack down in his mind. Akaashi was coming towards his shoulder. If he hit the blade at the right moment, Bokuto could parry and seal the priority for himself. He had to wait until it was precisely 10 centimeters away. 

80 centimeters. 70 centimeters. 




The blades clanged together, resonating loud in Bokuto’s ears. He shook his head, forcing him to focus. Now wasn’t the time to hesitate. After the impact, Akaashi’s sword was left lingering towards the ground. He would be too slow to raise his arm. The attack was open. It wasn’t some bait, it wasn’t a false alarm. It was a real vulnerability. 

And it was Bokuto’s to take! 

What a fool Akaashi was to think that he’d steal Bokuto’s pride away without his consent! 

But, the ringing noise of metal was still in Bokuto’s ears. Bokuto parried the blade seconds ago, the sound should be gone. 

The noise got louder and louder. 

Akaashi initiated a counter-riposte.

A parry to Bokuto’s parry. 

The two sheets of metal hit each other once more, forcing the air to be cut in the wrong direction. The left side of Bokuto’s chest was wide open. Oh, how he wished there was a third sheet of metal covering his left.

Akaashi’s blade pressed against Bokuto’s childish heart. 

The score was now 5-0. 

“Bokuto, take off your mask. You’re going to have trouble breathing if you leave it on.” That was all Akaashi said. He had won against Japan’s best, and the first thing he did was tell him to take his mask off? So that he didn’t suffocate in his own tears? How… nice of him. 

Bokuto let Akaashi unravel the uniform on Bokuto’s body. He took the helmet with a princess’s carefulness, then worked his way around the suit. The gloves were taken off just as delicately. He lingered at Bokuto’s jacket, then let his delicate touch push him backward, away. It was such a nice gesture, and yet, Bokuto was still so hot. He felt like throwing a fit, but that wouldn’t be an appropriate reaction to the kindness Akaashi showed. Akaashi’s face, normally unburdened with emotions, was very soft, with the faintest traces of a smile. He looked happy, but for what? For winning? He would have smiled earlier if it was about winning. It had to be about winning. There wouldn’t be anything else to smile about, right? 

In any case, Bokuto couldn’t help his pout, but his voice came out smaller than usual. 

“Akaashi,” he muttered, “Can you teach me how to be a ninja? Like you? I don’t wanna lose, so…” The charming glitter in Akaashi’s eyes appeared again, for a little longer than last time. His grey-blue eyes looked sweeter than when he was emotionless. It was almost a- att- attracti- Well, it was cool, okay? 

“Of course, Bokuto. J'adore cette idée,” Akaashi whispered. It was faint, so faint, but it was there. 

“For real?” Bokuto gasped. “I mean, I don’t know what you said in French, but you really want to practice against me? Like, for real for real? Aren’t we competitors though?” To that, Akaashi giggled. It grew into a chuckle, then bloomed into a laugh that filled the gym. 

“Well, what can I say, Bokuto? Je suis amoureux du risque!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi’s kind of cute when he’s not so SCARY!

Through his time in the Olympics, Bokuto learned exactly 2 words in French. The first was “bonjour.” The second…

“Merde!” Bokuto shouted. He staggered back several feet before claiming defeat on the cold gym floor. Akaashi was ending people’s careers, people’s lives in the fencing bracket, and soon, he would end Bokuto’s. Semi-finals were coming too soon. Even if Akaashi lost one match, they’d still have to fight it out during finals. Bokuto wanted to drown in his sweat before it could happen. Akaashi was evil! He was going to kill him in cold blood! 

The murderer’s steps grew louder in Bokuto’s ears. 

Merde. 

Bokuto was going to end that minute. After 30 practice match losses, Bokuto was going to die with no glory. Was this really what he wanted? Bokuto started to panic as Akaashi loomed above him. His sword was pointed at Bokuto’s chest! 

And yet, Akaashi’s eyes had the gentlest murderous intent Bokuto had seen. His face was painted with traces of worry against his deadpan expression. His sword was soon replaced by long, delicate fingers that were worn with apologies. Bokuto blinked hard. How was France’s devil fencer the same one who helped him get up after each match? 

“Bokuto, your footwork is giving yourself away,” Akaashi murmured, “And don’t say ‘merde’ aloud. My French teammates are a lot scarier than me.” 

“But Akaashi!” Bokuto whined with pleading eyes, “I’m freaking out. I might lose against you in an actual match. I don’t know! I can’t help but say it!” Bokuto threw his head back in shame. Hanging on the ceiling were two very long starfish, one with black rooster hair and another with filthy blonde hair. The level of intimacy between them was not normal. They weren’t being lovey-dovey for once, but they weren’t exactly staying peaceful? Did something happen? 

“You’ll get it next time, Bokuto, I promise.” Akaashi held out his hand once more, head dipped down in respect. Bokuto bit his lip. His friends were acting super weird but Akaashi was acting like that again! After every loss, Akaashi would always act too kind and dip his head down. It made his dark, fluffy hair drape down near his eyes. Bokuto had to use all of his remaining strength not to put his hands through it and smile. Though, now that he thought about it, Akaashi wouldn’t mind it. He was kind, right? If Bokuto just let his finger move on its own, he’d be able to hold the silky locks of hair. Then, without thinking, his mouth would open to say… 

… 

No! 

Not now! 

His friends were in purgatory or the abyss or something! 

Now was not the time to think about Akaashi… Oh, if only Kuroo and Tsukishima got a room! 

“Ahem!” Bokuto coughed, “I want to take a break, Akaashi. I think the members on my team are dead.” Yeah, something like that. He stared at Akaashi’s outstretched hand. They looked worn, yet gentle. Bokuto brushed his hand against the hand, mindless for a second. 

Then he sped away in shame. He acted like an utter fool just then. And he knew, he knew Akaashi didn’t want to high five. What kind of lame reaction was that? Why was real life so much harder than fencing matches? Bokuto shoved his head in his shirt and squatted near his friends. He could feel Akaashi’s presence nearby, but he forced himself to focus on Kuroo. 

“Kuroo,” he squeaked, “what are you doing?” Kuroo turned away, hair falling over his eyes. 

“Isn’t it obvious, Bo? I’m lying in my despair,” he sighed, “Not like 8th is a bad spot to be in, but you know.” Bokuto choked on the little air he had in his lungs. 

“You- you what?” Kuroo threw his arm across his face and gave a half-hearted smirk. 

“I lost, Bo.” Forcing a laugh, Kuroo pointed at Tsukishima and smiled. “I mean, I could be this guy. I could’ve lost to a big, dumb Russian dude that had no idea what was happening.” To that, Tsukishima glared at Bokuto, leaving only a pout for Kuroo. 

“It wasn’t like you won by much, either,” he complained, “And this is my first year, dear Kuroo. Scoring 10th place as a first-timer is much more impressive than 8th place as an old fart like you.” The tension between them broke as sickly-sweet smiles were aimed at each other. 

“I’m not an old fart! I’m not that much older than you!” Kuroo jeered, “You’re just lucky you didn’t have to go against Akaashi!” The defeated fencers went back and forth with their insults as Bokuto started to retreat. He curled himself up in a ball and slid under a desk, hiding from his friends. In complete honesty, he wanted to throw up. Kuroo wasn’t “bad” at fencing. He had his weak points, but Bokuto had to think against him. For Kuroo to lose against Akaashi…. Bokuto buried his face in his shirt. He was next on the chopping block. 

He almost couldn’t hear the pleasant, fleeting voice floating above him. His thoughts were too loud. There were too many of them, and they longed to drag Bokuto away from where he was. But as soon as he locked eyes with his knight in shining armor, Keiji Akaashi himself, his thoughts stopped clamoring. They dulled to a whisper; instead, they pointed at Akaashi’s eyes. Glassy, tired eyes never did sparkle brighter. 

“Bokuto,” Akaashi whispered, “You seemed stressed. Are you alright?” Bokuto taped together a smile but ripped it apart just as fast. 

“No, Akaashi,” he sniffled, “I mean, I don’t know. Well, I mean, I know, but it’s hard. I was always good at fencing, and then you come along and you’re amazing. You’re like, pretty, too, and I don’t know. If I lose, then what?” Bokuto sucked a breath and hid in his shirt again. He didn’t know Akaashi long enough to spill those thoughts out, and yet they exploded into a billion parts anyways.

All Bokuto wanted to do was go home. 

After suffocating in his shirt for what felt like hours, Bokuto looked up to see Akaashi squatting nearby him. They locked eyes with Akaashi as unreadable as always. 

“You should take a break,” Akaashi said, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t think fencing more will help you.” Bokuto smiled, then pouted, then outright frowned. 

“That’s nonsense, Akaashi!” he shouted. He pushed himself up and brushed himself off. He wanted, no, needed a break, but letting Akaashi see that would be a sign of weakness. That’s exactly what his competition wanted to happen! Bokuto took a step forward, followed by two steps, followed by ten. Another round of fencing would refresh him! He’d feel much better after that! He reached towards his sword with his right hand. 

It didn’t move. His hand was glued to its spot by another, forcing Bokuto to turn to meet his oppressor. He only saw Akaashi, a kid who refused to meet his eyes. Akaashi’s hand gripped tightly at Bokuto’s wrist, a grip that Bokuto could break with ease, but strangely didn’t. Through lonely lips and his wandering eyes, Akaashi began to speak. 

“You need a break,” Akaashi started. Bokuto watched Akaashi’s chest raise up and down. The slightest movements in his arm made earthquakes on his body. It made it seem like Akaashi was trembling, but out of what? 

“You need a break,” he tried again, “If you keep practicing you’ll run out of energy. And glory. You’ll run out of that too.” After a few more hesitant breaths, Akaashi’s head shot up, eyes completely glazed over with fear. He was shaking out of worry. 

“You need a break, Bokuto.”

And perhaps he did. Bokuto turned his hands upward and saw how worn they were compared to the rest of him. The more he thought about it, the more he felt sweaty, tired, and dead. If he wanted to cheer himself on right then, he wouldn’t be able to. There was no voice left in him. He could only imagine how shameful it must be to have your country represented by a lame doll. Bokuto swallowed, noting how much he needed to hear those words from someone. 

He needed a break, or there would be no competition left. 

The room was quiet enough to hear Akaashi’s quiet coughing.

“Ah, you’re probably hungry too, Bokuto,” he said after a bit. “Je connais un gars qui connaît un gars qui possède un bon restaurant.” Bokuto started to wonder if Akaashi defaulted to French when he got nervous, or if Akaashi had a serious urinary issue. 

“Do you need to pee, Akaashi?” Bokuto blinked. He stared at Akaashi’s growing smile. It was utterly contagious, racing towards laughter. After a few, blessed moments, Akaashi’s smile was a laugh, a beautiful, raw laugh. 

“Ah, j’adore ta voix. Come on, Bokuto. Let’s get something to eat.” Akaashi’s hand floated from Bokuto’s wrist to his fingers, where two hands wrapped around each other. The warmth of both mingled in the air, following the sprinting duo. Within seconds, they burst out of the gym, out of the hallways, and out of the building that fated the two together. 

The dead batteries of energy started to kick Bokuto from behind. His feet were heavy against the floor, straining themselves to keep up with Akaashi. For every breath Akaashi took, Bokuto sucked in three more. The air around him was too warm for him to cool down. It all should have suffocated him, but his focus was on other things. It was on the hands tied to his, soft and fitting to their owner. His focus was on the hair that flew in the air, its soft locks taunting him as he moved. His focus was on Akaashi and his smile that seemed to take him places. 

He looked so happy taking a dead man walking. That bright, shiny gold medal would look so beautiful on Akaashi. It made Bokuto’s dread of losing fade away. 

Well- 

Maybe-

Not really. Bokuto’s pride was too big for that. But he’d like to believe that’s true! 

Just like how he’d like to believe he could read a French menu. He stared at the floating characters on the page and watched them tap dance. They were in Tokyo, right? Bokuto turned to Akaashi, who was ordering in the most fluent French he had heard, ever. The waiter was speaking back in this weird language, also French, though maybe it was English. He turned back to the menu with his hands sweating up a new river for Japan. He had to pick something! His finger slid along the page and stopped on a word with the letter “e.” He knew that character, at least. It wasn’t like he completely failed English! When the waiter turned around to Bokuto’s nervous, stinky figure, Bokuto pointed at the word and turned away. 

“That one, please.” 

He totally failed English! He sounded like a 9-year-old talking for the first time! Bokuto let Akaashi gently push his fingers off the word as he started to flush. Akaashi said some more words to the waiter, who left soon after. His French eyes turned to face Bokuto, who looked at the salt shakers. Speaking two languages like that was so cool! Why couldn’t Bokuto be like that? It’d save him from blushing himself dry! And French of all languages! The romantic language! Akaashi was definitely hiding a romantic side to him! 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto gasped, “You’re a good kisser, right?” Akaashi sacrificed the drink in his mouth to avoid choking in embarrassment. 

“I don’t know why you’d think that,” Akaashi answered. Crap. The remains of Akaashi’s drink saluted him on the table. Bokuto said that too loud, didn’t he? Well, that was fine! To fix that, all he had to do was lean forward… 

...push his arms against the table…

...and whisper gently into Akaashi’s ear. 

“Say, Akaashi,” Bokuto murmured, “Is it true that French kissing tastes really good?” From this angle, Bokuto could see Akaashi bite his slender lips. Akaashi’s tongue slid about his lower lip, only to meet his soft hands. Those hands pressed against Bokuto’s cheeks, caressing his face. Bokuto squirmed in his spot. That was a hypothetical question! He didn’t mean it! He wasn’t arguing, but he didn’t mean it! He watched Akaashi’s lips get very, very close. Bokuto opened his mouth in the heat of the moment, perhaps to return Akaashi’s kindness or say something about how much his head hurt. 

That didn’t belong in the scenario at all. 

When Bokuto’s eyes fluttered open, his head was against the back of his chair and not Akaashi. Akaashi’s hands were still reaching out, exactly where Bokuto’s head hurt. 

Akaashi pushed him away too hard! Bokuto’s head was going to kill him! 

With flustered, angered or all of the above cheeks, Akaashi began to speak. 

“If you want to find out so much, wait. I need to prepare myself.”

Bokuto blinked with a smile on his face. Akaashi wasn’t speaking French. This time, it was utter nonsense. Akaashi wanted to answer his question? He had to prepare himself to do so? That meant it wouldn’t be a yes or no question! It would be- it would be- 

Delicious! The food would, yes! Bokuto made a quiet reminder to tip the waiter extra. If Bokuto had sat there any longer without interruption, he would’ve blown all the fuses he had left. The grumbling of his stomach was so loud now that there was food in front of him. It looked like a gourmet plate, with piles upon piles of cheese on top of tube noodles, the supreme kind of noodles. There were dashes of onions and other spices that smelled so good, Bokuto would have inhaled the plate if Akaashi weren’t there.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto said, looking at his meal. “I can order in French after all!” A small giggle escaped Akaashi’s mouth as he pointed with his fork. 

“That’s French onion pasta, or pâtes à l’oignon,” Akaashi grinned. “If I didn’t change your order, you would’ve ordered escargots.” Akaashi looked like a bomb about to explode. His face, usually cool and suave, was now beet red. 

“What’s so bad about that?” Bokuto frowned. That just sounded like your everyday French word that either meant a cool food or the bathroom.

“Ah, Bokuto. Escargots are snails.” His fork was pointed down towards his meal, which Bokuto began to process. Right below a delicate leaf was spiraled shells that held what remained of dead, unconscious snails. It was cooked, of course, but it wasn’t like it made any difference. Alive or dead, Bokuto didn’t want to eat a slimy ball. Bokuto took all of his fleeting energy and forced a smile. 

“You’re weird, Akaashi!” Bokuto cried. Akaashi’s laughter drowned Bokuto out. Bokuto’s mouth wavered between a pout and a smile. Akaashi totally tricked him! But Akaashi’s laugh was enchanting! It cooled Bokuto down as much as the joke made him want to stick his tongue out. When Akaashi stopped laughing after about five or ten years, he bowed his head towards Bokuto. Forgiveness quickly overcame him as Akaashi’s silky hair said a familiar hello.

“Thank you for the meal,” Akaashi breathed. 

With that, Bokuto dug into his food, tearing it apart with ease. It tasted as great as it looked, filling him up after a few minutes. With a bunch of blessed, delicious bites, Bokuto began to slow down, looking up at his friend instead of his food. Aside from the- the snails… there was a lot to look at in front of him. Akaashi was totally one of those evil, smart cool guys. His stormy eyes were always full of thoughts. Yep, Akaashi was super smart! And super cool! But evil? Bokuto rubbed his wrist, watching Akaashi eat. He could still feel traces of Akaashi’s grip lingering on his arm, and the aroma of the food never did smell better. No, he wasn’t evil... just mischievous.

Now that he thought about it, Akaashi was like a kinder version of- of- Tsukishima! Bokuto downed his glass of water in fear. They’d get along well- too well. If they spent any longer together, there would be no end to the number of smirks Bokuto and Kuroo would get. 

Bokuto stared at Akaashi’s face and tried to make him look like a four-year-old child. It failed, giving him a cursed image of a very short devil. If they had met when they were younger, then he’d know what he’d look like as a baby. That very thought made Bokuto frown for what must have been the third time that day. He said “if” too much. “If” only they had met sooner. “If” only they had known each other as children. “If” only Akaashi lingered a little bit longer and stayed with Bokuto and his friends. It would put an end to Bokuto’s third-wheeling adventures and leave him with something else. Something so childish and found only in fairy tales. Bokuto could get used to Akaashi, if only he stayed for longer. 

And have the devil fencer in all of his waking moments? No way! 

Bokuto spooned another aimless scoop of air into his mouth. His food, like the blissful air that filled the table, was now gone, leaving Bokuto with his skyrocketing anxiety. With a furrowed brow, Bokuto stared back into Akaashi’s intense gaze. 

“Akaashi,” he complained, “I'm still nervous! And sad! Why’d you leave for France, anyways?” Akaashi turned to him, sipping his drink. 

“I told you,” he said, “I wanted to represent my parents.” Bokuto couldn’t get mad at that! It was wholesome and innocent and pure! It made Bokuto seem like such a selfish human being. 

“Right,” Bokuto muttered. He made a face, not noticing Akaashi’s lips upturned into a smile. 

“Bokuto, are you still young enough for storytime?” Bokuto looked at Akaashi, who was dead serious. Akaashi’s hand patted the space on his chair while maintaining his gaze. Akaashi was messing with him for sure, but if Bokuto caved, he’d be able to learn the story of the elusive French kid! It would foil Akaashi’s plan! Like a small child, Bokuto slid right next to Akaashi, peering from under Akaashi’s arm. 

“Tell me a story!” Bokuto shouted. He let the warmth of Akaashi’s arm on his back settle in. 

“You’re just like a child,” Akaashi said, leaving his arm where it rightfully belonged. Leaning back, Akaashi stared at the fan’s slow rotation. “Please bear with me. It’s embarrassing to say this aloud. But… when I was about 19 I saw you fence on television for the first time. It’s only a vague memory now, but when I saw you, I knew fencing was something I wanted to do. I knew I had to meet you.” Akaashi lifted his arm off Bokuto’s back to twist his tired fingers.

“I guess, in hindsight, I should’ve played for Japan, right?” Akaashi chuckled. “But I guess I didn’t want to take that spot away from your friends. I guess I did want to represent my parents. I know… that I wanted to play against you. I’d get to draw out the best of you. I’d get to know you. Bokuto, I wish I’d met you sooner.” When he was met with silence, he turned to see Bokuto’s glimmering eyes. 

“Akaashi! You’re so nice!” he cried, shoving himself into Akaashi’s arms. Bokuto didn’t listen to the entire speech… but it wasn’t noticeable. Akaashi admired Bokuto and he wanted to meet him! Without sacrificing his friends! That was the important part. He relaxed so Akaashi’s lips would start moving again. 

“I suppose.” Akaashi pulled on his fingers more before returning his warmth to Bokuto. “Oh. That might help you with your nervousness. The best advice I can give you is to know your opponent.” With his free hand, Akaashi pointed his fork straight. “I watched videos of you so many times. I understood how you think and how you'd react to a direct attack. I came to understand you as a person, on top of as a fencer. If you can really get into someone’s head, you’ll know everything. It sounds evil, I know, but who wouldn’t want to get to know someone like you?” Bokuto’s face wrinkled itself into a prune. Did he have to get an x-ray or something? Did Akaashi mix up words again? He squinted at Akaashi’s forehead. How was he supposed to get in there?

Akaashi eyed Bokuto’s scrunched-up face. “You’ll understand later, Bokuto. At least, I hope so. In the meantime…” Countless hours of practice went into avoiding flinching, but Bokuto wouldn’t ever expect that it’d come in handy when cold hands cupped his face. The eyes that used to be so hazy, so reserved were now clear and fixated on Bokuto. He watched Akaashi’s eyes flicker for a moment, eventually hiding what shone so brightly. The thick, passionate air made Bokuto’s eyes flutter shut. With another flash of impulse, Bokuto’s lips opened to meet the ones he had eyed for so long. 

He couldn’t bring himself to think. He tried to, he tried to think how he’d tell Akaashi that he loved this and wanted him to stay and wanted to do this more. But Akaashi’s taste wiped his mind clean, leaving only the instinct to keep his lips on Akaashi’s, for that brought him pleasure. If his eyes opened, it would be over. They refused to open, savoring the moment. His tongue was obedient, listening only to Akaashi’s pushes. Akaashi led with soft, teasing touches of his tongue. Akaashi’s hands, oh, they had a wild sense of obsessiveness to them. They pulled Bokuto closer and closer until their breathing was barely distinguishable from the other. 

Pulling away, Bokuto stared at Akaashi’s soft lips, whose taste was still fresh in Bokuto’s mouth. He let his tongue slide across his bottom lip. The taste possessed his mind, leaving him with a cocky smirk. 

“Akaashi,” he flirted, “You’re showing off, aren’t you?” 

Akaashi touched a finger to his mouth. “I wouldn’t say that.” Those eyes Akaashi had, they were still clear. They were a window to the intense admiration lying beneath him. If he stared long enough, Bokuto could see those lovey-dovey feelings that plagued his friend group. If he stared for too long, he’d see himself having those feelings. Toxic silence blanketed them for a while. “I’m not that great of a kisser, anyways.”

“Akaashi! What in the world do you mean?” Bokuto shouted. He ignored Akaashi’s frantic gestures. He was probably just attempting to humble himself. “You’re an amazing kisser! You taste great and you feel super experienced! It makes me super happy and lustful and stuff! I don’t see why you’re on the  _ fence _ about this. You’re the best at kissing!” 

The humid air started to kick in. It wasn’t humid, rather, it was boiling. Where the passionate air was warm, the current air was sweltering hot. Bokuto turned around to see what was making the air so unbearable, only to see the scary, beady eyes of a thousand people looking at him. Well, of course, there weren't that many, but the anger was equal to about five times that. He could almost hear it: “you did that over food? PDA is bad, young man! Go get a room!” Bokuto turned to Akaashi with an apologetic smile. Akaashi’s passive face was unreadable, but Bokuto could feel the disappointment. But, maybe he liked the thrill? Akaashi was a weird kid, it could be possible! The only thing Bokuto knew was that Akaashi was a great kisser. That was why he said it! Akaashi’s hand was around Bokuto’s wrist again, dragging him out of the suffocating restaurant. 

“You owe me  _ lunge _ tomorrow, Bokuto.” He stared up at Akaashi’s faint smile and raised his eyebrows even more. 

“So you did like it, you liked the kiss! And the compliments!” Bokuto announced. Akaashi pouted in mock protest.

“Bokuto, you’d enjoy it more if you didn’t get so embarrassed afterward. Let’s go find another place.” Bokuto’s wide gasp was met with a gentle push from Akaashi’s finger. The devil fencer was going to “murder” him for sure! Finally, something Bokuto could look forward to!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mask is such a big divider. Who knows what the other person is thinking?

Bokuto always knew that the mere fabric of reality was easy to destroy. He always knew that someday, he’d ascend beyond this universe and find another, lively parallel dimension. He always told Kuroo that. Though, he never thought it would take the Olympic’s gold medal match to teach it to him. 

Bokuto shivered at the sheer power radiating from inside the gym. The bright LED lights and the world’s most stress-inducing cameras made it feel like the start of some sports anime. And the crowd… Bokuto could only hear light chatters, but it was already louder than his other matches. The people had to be packed like sardines! They chose to be squished together like that- to watch him! Bokuto stomped his fear deep into the ground. He’d be fine! He’d be perfectly, completely fine!

Footsteps rang on either side of him. “Hey, Bo,” a hand said, resting on his shoulder. “You better win, alright?” 

Another hand grazed his shoulder. “You’ll probably win, Bokuto. If not…” Two faces materialized in front of Bokuto, cocky grins mocking him from behind bed hair and dirty glasses. “You can’t tell the interviewers that we’re dating!” Bokuto stuck his tongue out. He wasn’t going to do that anyway! He was Tsukishima and Kuroo’s trusted confidant! He was the ultimate third wheel! Well… unless an interviewer asked him nicely… it was for TV after all… 

“Jeez, guys!” Bokuto exclaimed, puffing his chest and slapping his hips with his hands. “Have a little more faith in me!” A pout was written all over his face. They could’ve at least told him to do well without the whole dating thing. Kuroo tilted his head at Bokuto’s expression and laughed. 

“Bokuto, have a little more faith in us!” Kuroo slammed his hand on Bokuto’s shoulder. “We know you’ll win! We just wanted to give you a little prize for doing so.”

“No,” Tsukishima protested, “Kuroo wanted to give you that prize. I just think it’s embarrassing and childish.” 

Tsukishima blinked, followed by Kuroo and Bokuto’s heavy eyelids. After a few moments, they all burst into horrible laughter as Bokuto slapped his forehead with glee. They were horrible clowns, but Bokuto never felt calmer. This just felt like one of their practice matches back in the small, cramped training rooms. Bokuto would get all down and depressed and Kuroo would say something stupid. Tsukishima would too, after like 10 hours. Then Akaashi would push Bokuto up and make another horrible joke! 

It was… not perfect. The devil fencer wasn’t on his side. He was probably laughing with his French teammates, ready to defeat him without another thought. That meant their kisses basically didn’t happen at all! And the feelings tied to it- oh, what a tragic heartbreak! What Bokuto would give to be with Akaashi before this battle! 

Well, if Bokuto grabbed the gold medal, he’d have the satisfaction of winning and be able to keep his sappy feelings intact! That’s what Akaashi would want, right? He’d be proud, surely! Unless Akaashi actually wanted to win, then well, Bokuto had to say goodbye to his life. 

_ Ladies and gentlemen! _ Bokuto tripped on his suit, diving headfirst into Tsukishima’s chest. A ghost was coming for him! The floor, out of all things, caught his fall. How kind of it. He stared at the feet of the referees and his helpers. They’d be the ones to bury him after the ghost caught him. A little farther and he could see a fencing outfit similar to his. They were a smaller build topped with messy black hair- just like Akaashi! Akaashi had a cosplayer! Bokuto squirmed on the ground in laughter. 

The ghost never seemed to come for him. If it was really Bokuto’s time to go, wouldn’t it say something like “great Bokuto, it’s your time” or something? The English kind of sounded official, like an announcer on a sp-

Speaker! Words from the announcer meant the game was about to start soon! He wasn’t supposed to be behind those referees! He was supposed to be the leader! And that person wasn’t a cosplayer, it was Akaashi! Stupidity and anxiety were ganging up on him today. With a dumb smile on his face, Bokuto waved a hasty goodbye to his friends and sped towards the end of the hallway. 

He had to wake up. Winning gold wouldn’t be a cakewalk. 

_ Would you please welcome the athletes and officials for the gold medal match of the men’s individual foil! _ With one step came a fury of dramatic music, making the gym seem more and more surreal. Bokuto’s steps were sporadic as the music marked their entrance. He parted the curtain of heat, feeling the sweat start to set in. Bokuto had to think straight, but the glare of the lights flickered on his eyes. It was too intense, so much more intense and evil than that first practice match with Kuroo. The cheering was no quieter than fireworks, either. He stepped on the piste and bowed his head down. If he couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see the panic on his face. Akaashi stood nearby, posture rigid and eyes to the crowd. Bokuto was just a fencer from Japan. Akaashi was France’s best. 

_ Ladies and gentlemen, _ the ceiling boomed,  _ the winner bracket champion from Japan: Koutarou Bokuto! _ A frenzy of clapping ensued, clouding Bokuto’s head. He spun around, waving to the faceless crowd. Were they there to see him win? 

_ His opponent from France, Keiji Akaashi! _ A thunderstorm of cheers answered his question. 

No. Nobody wanted to see him win. 

They were all there to see Akaashi win. 

Akaashi spun around, his eyes still glued to the floor. The cheers piled on top of each other, only amplifying the name they were cheering. “Keiji!” screamed the left side. “Keiji!” shouted the right. The cheering piled over the announcer as the referees were introduced, leaving Bokuto staring at his opponent, his friend. The power Akaashi had even with his modest stance made the air unbearable. Bokuto tried in vain to swallow his fear. Akaashi peered up at Bokuto offering a tiny smile.

The cheering deafened Bokuto’s ears. 

Akaashi didn’t smile much, but when he did, it was because he knew something. 

He held back during those practice matches, didn’t he? 

Akaashi paced away from Bokuto, leaving him stranded on his side of the mat. He outright fidgeted, straightening his suit more times than he could count. His mask covered his face and his words, though he wished he could tell Akaashi that he won already. Bokuto had no chance. 

_ Athletes, please salute your opponent. _ Out went the lights. Out went the obnoxious cheers. There was just the mat, Bokuto, and Akaashi. The perfect setting outside the match, the worst within it. They walked slowly, slowly towards the middle. There was a disgusting, hollow mask covering Akaashi’s face. Bokuto had to be thankful. If he saw that beautiful smile again he’d break. 

He took a breath. They were armed with swords in the middle of the mat for the entire world to see. They were going to fight to the death and someone would lose for the entertainment of these faceless people. Bokuto took in the small dash of air from his salute. That’s something Tsukishima would say before losing. But Bokuto was not Kuroo’s lover, and he would not despair. Not now. He watched his sword touch Akaashi’s chest, lighting up the lights that would signal each point. It all seemed too fast. Akaashi’s sword drew away from Bokuto too soon. They stood on the on-guard line too soon, too fast! Everything was fast, except for the heavy words of the announcer. 

_ Referee, please, start the fight! _ The malice in the announcer’s voice kicked Bokuto in the feet. It made his heartbeat pound in his ears. They sounded hungry for someone to lose. The restless crowd was thirsty for the taste of loss. The look in the referee’s eyes was stone cold. It was all a fancy gladiator match with Akaashi at the reigns, wasn’t it? Bokuto’s heartbeat felt like drums in his ears. The moment slowed to a crawl as he felt the seconds melt to the floor.

“En guard!” yelled the referee. 

One… two… three… his heart was so loud. 

The referee’s hands flew up. “Prêts!” 

Bokuto just needed a few more moments to relax, why-

“Allez!” The words barely hit Bokuto’s ears as his stiff legs moved backward. He could already see the tip of Akaashi’s sword pointed up and aimed at his chest. If Akaashi wanted to, he could have taken Bokuto out at that moment, and yet he let Bokuto take long, excruciating seconds to walk backward. Akaashi was playing some mind game, wasn’t he? 

Or was he just being kind? 

The pointy part of Akaashi’s blade answered Bokuto’s question. It leaped for the spot below Bokuto’s heart, silent as the crowd. It was the last thing anyone would have detected, if not for the squeaks of Akaashi’s shoes. Bokuto jumped farther back upon hearing it, trying not to wince at how close the blade was. Akaashi pulled his sword back, leaping back himself. Bokuto sucked in a breath. There was life behind that mask, but there was certainly no mercy. Akaashi wanted a quick win with no pain. Bokuto running away would only frustrate him more. Which would mean… if Bokuto pretended to fall back towards the warning zone-

A loud beep shattered his thoughts. Akaashi had stabbed him and his thoughts with no room for reaction. He stared at the light glowing on Akaashi’s end. That light spoiled everything. That bright green light meant Akaashi had taken a point, to the referee’s approval. But that was fine, Bokuto had his flimsy excuse of a plan with a solid amount of time to play it out. He could hear the crowd ripple with approval. Would the crowd even let him breathe? 

When the referee shouted “allez” once more, Bokuto forced himself backward. Sure enough, Akaashi followed and within seconds, they were in death’s reach. Akaashi took a much lower stance than before, eying Bokuto from his safe position. It felt like a warped game of cat and mouse, and Bokuto was a scared, scared rodent. When the warning zone met his feet, Bokuto braced himself for Akaashi’s sword. With violent speed, the sword slammed against Bokuto’s. Bokuto swallowed his pride and sped forward, hoping to push Akaashi back. The sheer speed had to scare Akaashi, right? 

Oh, when would he learn. 

Akaashi’s form broke into a retreat, leaving Akaashi’s sword arm suspended in the air. His other arm lay limp at his side, exposing his chest. It was the perfect recipe, but Akaashi didn’t even flinch. He moved a total of zero centimeters, keeping his feet drilled in the ground.

Bokuto’s sword suddenly seemed so heavy. It dragged through the air, taking seconds to move across the short gap. Bokuto closed his eyes, waiting for the impact, waiting for the call from the referee, anything. This moment had to end!

And with the sound from the buzzer, the rally ended, but the moment spat in Bokuto’s face. As his eyes opened, he glanced at not the floor, but Akaashi. Their collision sent waves of laughter through the crowd, leaving Bokuto to crawl away like a useless bug. He pushed his hands against the floor, trying not to stare into Akaashi’s mask. If he looked, he’d see Akaashi’s disapproving face. It’d be contorted with embarrassment, red with the reputation of his fans. But who was Bokuto to kid himself like that? Akaashi would be more disappointed than anything. The practice games were more thrilling to him than this excuse of a match. 

Bokuto gave the yellow card in the referee’s hand a few french swears. If he collided with Akaashi again, then that one point gap would bid farewell. Not like it’d stay around for much longer, anyway. 

Only 60 seconds had gone by when Bokuto tried Akaashi’s patience in the next rally. He edged towards Akaashi with two plans in mind. Plan A: Akaashi parries his attack, leaving himself open for Bokuto to attack his stomach. Plan B: Akaashi retreats, favoring his right side for protection. Bokuto attacks his left shoulder when Akaashi is at his lowest. Simple! Bokuto drew back his elbow, leaping towards Akaashi with full force. 

His mind laughed at him. He could already see it: Akaashi would attack first while Bokuto was preparing to attack. He was slow enough to read from outside the stadium. He had retreated to a plan that failed him many times in practices, even against Kuroo. He could hear that snarky voice.

“Oi, that elbow, Bo! It’s just too bad!” 

“You gave it all away.” 

The crowd shouted with the referee at Akaashi’s clean point. 

Did they have to play for 9 long minutes? 

Could Bokuto just sit with Akaashi without the threat of competition? They’d hang out like- like friends sure, but maybe they could date and fence against each other for fun. 

Not for the sake of their lives. 

The score was 2-0 when Bokuto asked Akaashi with his sword if they could sit and talk for a minute. A second, even! Akaashi’s sword responded with glee. “Only after I win.” 

It pushed the score to 3-0, making Bokuto ask with the tip of his blade what would happen if he lost this match. Akaashi’s blade didn’t hesitate. “Well, then you lose.” 

That fourth point was scored with a horrible bout in Akaashi’s favor. Bokuto lifted up his mask and slammed his hand against his cheek. He wasn’t at full attention yet, that was it. This was a warm-up! All those points were for practice. These points would just earn themselves back when he was at full attention like he would be with his next attack. On cue, Bokuto shot an arrow attack towards Akaashi. Akaashi was ready, parrying it with ten times the strength Bokuto used to attack. He retreated, expecting all of it. Bokuto pushed himself back far enough to be out of reach, forcing his feet to bounce. Akaashi would expect him to retreat more. All Bokuto had to do was copy Akaashi’s footwork! 

Akaashi did nothing Bokuto wanted and everything Bokuto was doing. Akaashi’s footwork copied Bokuto’s down to the heel, masking his intentions. His sword fluttered between both sides, masking his stance. But Bokuto was not stupid as his nerves painted him out to be. Akaashi was defensive by nature, so Bokuto’s lunge, just this once, would not be…. 

...detected. Akaashi had pierced Bokuto’s heart countless times before this match, but this one was filled with filthy, disgusting pain. The bright screens only amplified his pain, reading a score of 5-0 as the time bid farewell. It was a replica of the practice matches, but this time, it would repeat itself three times over. They had to play to fifteen points or for nine minutes. The only breaks happened after three long minutes. Then, it was back to the slaughter. The crowd knew that. 

In front of him, Akaashi had stripped himself of the hollow mask. 

It was supposed to be an utterly beautiful sight, but… 

…his eyes were hazy. Akaashi’s tongue was out in a friendly show of mockery, but his eyes were everything but clear. 

It was obvious that he expected more. 

But what more could Bokuto give? If 30 practice matches didn’t make it clear enough that Bokuto couldn’t win against Akaashi, then nothing would. He felt his coaches take him by the arm and pull him to sit down, but he couldn’t stop thinking. His coaches forced water and worries down his throat, but Bokuto barely reacted. Fencing had never felt this pointless- what was the point if he wasn’t going to win? What joy did anyone get out of fencing against an opponent stronger than them? And hell to Akaashi’s strength! He was supposed to be stronger than Akaashi. Bokuto naturally had a longer reach and had fiercer attacks! That’s what his coaches said, but he couldn’t be so sure. Akaashi made it feel like none of it was true. 

Bokuto spun around in his chair, away from his coaches. Ignoring the protesting from behind him, he narrowed his gaze at Akaashi. That kid was totally relaxed in his chair, wiping off the sweat on his pale skin and toying with the tip of his water bottle. Bokuto kicked his feet against the floor. That should be the least of his delights. Why was Akaashi so relaxed? Akaashi had the means to lose, not win, so why- 

_ “If you can really get into someone’s head, you’ll know everything.” _

Bokuto’s back grew rigid at the thought of Akaashi’s voice. He’d probably just been lovestruck and stupid before, but Akaashi’s words were so simple. So simple, that Bokuto had to pay Tsukishima at least $10 for being right about Bokuto’s intelligence. The question to ask himself was so easy! He’d been asking himself that since he first met that devil. 

What was going on in Akaashi’s head?

What was he thinking about this match? 

It was so easy. Bokuto’s mind focused on the slightest snapshots he remembered from the match. Akaashi took advantage of Bokuto’s slower thinking. He left Bokuto with no room to breathe with a score of 5-0. He led Bokuto on into thinking he would go easy on him, then pulled the rug from under Bokuto’s feet. Akaashi was playing to win! 

Snarky, but fitting. 

The break ended soon after, leaving loose threads strewn about Bokuto’s head. That information? It felt smart… but… what was he to do with it? Bokuto played to win too… so it didn’t really mean anything? The crowd’s shouting slammed like cymbals in his mind. The referee’s hands were up soon after. Bokuto couldn’t afford to think this slowly. 

The referee, on the other hand, could absolutely think that slowly. He dragged out the word “allez,” relishing each second of sound. When his voice cut off, Bokuto was at Akaashi’s neck, preparing his sword for striking. Any sign of surprise was overshadowed by his playing as he parried Bokuto’s sword and dove for a riposte attack. Bokuto sprung back and swiped Akaashi’s sword away. Just as he thought. Akaashi’s defense was essentially perfect. 

Would he be the same way if Bokuto tried to parry? 

For all games with big stakes, there was always an element of recklessness to whoever was trying to win. Bokuto was no different, losing a considerable amount of Mario Kart games against Kuroo and Tsukishima. He always took the risky turns that never kept him on the road. He had like… fat fingers or something… that’s why. This fencing sport was just a blown-up game, with more theatrics and shiny lights. Bokuto wanted to win as much as the next guy, but Akaashi was set on winning. He would sacrifice the relationship he built with Bokuto for that win. He aspired to be a fencer far better than Bokuto, even if winning tore him apart. 

That’s what Bokuto hoped, anyway. The relationship and aspiration part, at least.

Bokuto watched the sword flick about in Akaashi’s hands as he moved closer. It was beginning to look like a repeat of the yellow card, the warning zone looking all too familiar. But this time, Bokuto had a feasible plan. He naturally had more of a target area than Akaashi, but that made it all the more tantalizing for Akaashi to strike. At the last moment, he just had to turn away, watching his back to make sure Akaashi couldn’t do more trickery. It wasn’t surefire, but Bokuto was sure this one had some ground. There was something to be had in this plan. 

Akaashi grew close, his footsteps already getting sloppy. He probably foresaw a repeat of the yellow card and was hungry for it to turn red. Bokuto stared down the tip of Akaashi’s sword. It would never come close to his body. 

At the last possible moment, Bokuto swung his body to the side, watching as Akaashi’s balance and power gave away to nothing. Akaashi’s footing collapsed, causing him to fall straight onto Bokuto’s foot. Bokuto spun and dug his sword into Akaashi’s back, breath heavy. He actually made it work? He watched Akaashi’s head turn to the referee. 

A yellow card! It was no point, but for the first time the entire match, Akaashi lost his perfect streak. It made the sweat on his forehead and the strain in his arms finally seem like they were worth something. Bokuto stared at Akaashi’s small, small figure on the ground. What could he be thinking, Bokuto thought as his fingers dangled towards Akaashi’s fingers.

When Akaashi’s fingers squeezed the blood and soul out of Bokuto’s hand, he shriveled up and eternally died. Bokuto felt smaller and smaller as Akaashi grew taller and taller. At last, when Akaashi stood up, their eyes fought their own battle, meeting each other. 

To put it simply, Akaashi was salty. 

Akaashi pulled on Bokuto’s arm so hard Bokuto heard a few joints crinkle like wrapping paper. Behind the mask, Akaashi was blowing raspberries like a toddler. Akaashi’s fingers touched where his eyes would be and pointed them at Bokuto. It was an entire ordeal, with Akaashi’s little rage akin to, well, a toddler. 

As cute as it was, Bokuto couldn’t help but focus on Akaashi’s eyes, clearer than he’s ever seen them. Akaashi, as spiteful as he was, felt pride towards Bokuto. Or something cheesy like that. Bokuto let go of Akaashi’s fingers, throwing his mask up and laughing. Everyone in the crowd would see that the point gap didn’t phase him! Not him, he was Bokuto! He slammed his fists against the air, energy right back in him. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” The crowd might hate his guts for ruining Akaashi’s perfect image, but oh, was it sweet to mess with the devil fencer. 

The pride didn’t last nearly as long as Bokuto wanted it to. As soon as they hit the mat Akaashi sprung towards Bokuto, angry about their interaction. Bokuto forced himself to still. Akaashi would not fall for another trick again, but that would be his weakness. Akaashi was expecting another faint, so the impact of the parry would shock him. But Akaashi wasn’t a simple fencer, he was France’s best. That simple impact wouldn’t shock him in the slightest. Something that would shock him though… 

Bokuto stood strong against Akaashi’s attack, skillfully weaving it into a parry. Akaashi’s sword smiled for him, parrying Bokuto’s attempt at an attack. Akaashi’s feet were too close for protection. If Bokuto just swung his arm a little more, then he’d be able to parry Akaashi’s riposte!

And that, he did! The adrenaline of the yellow card forced Akaashi’s sword to the side, landing an easy point for Bokuto. The lights were red, Bokuto’s color! The referee's support was there too, albeit reluctant! Finally, after painful minutes, Bokuto had something on the board. Looks like he was doing better than Kuroo already. 

Speaking of which, a noise amidst the clamoring was starting to pierce the noise barrier. It was a familiar string of “hey hey heys” and “ho ho hos.” With a slow turn, Bokuto saw the two lovey-dovey idiot buttheads staring right back at him. It was almost scary how much Tsukishima was smiling, though it could have just been for money. Kuroo was just that good with bribery. Bokuto smiled, but the clock mounted to the walls did not. He had burnt up a good 45 seconds, which wasn’t terrible. But earning back 4 points and maintaining a substantial lead…? 

He’s had better challenges! Like the time when Tsukishima put super glue on Bokuto’s hands and stuck them to Kuroo’s hair-

The referee shouted in his ear. He was getting careless as always, but it was for a good cause! When he stood on the piste again, he felt giddy, like he could hug Akaashi then and there. On “allez,” Akaashi pulled out his defensive card, shying away from Bokuto’s energy. Akaashi really didn’t want a hug. All Bokuto had to do was give him one! Akaashi would love it! With slow footsteps, Bokuto made his way towards Akaashi. How much of a hug would Akaashi like? Would he get scared of a hug that buried him in Bokuto’s chest? Bokuto leaned towards Akaashi, looking down at Akaashi’s defensive state. 

A sword lashed out towards Bokuto’s lower torso. It felt like Bokuto tripped an alarm getting to a safe full of gold. But where was the problem in that? Bokuto parried Akaashi’s attack, forcing Akaashi to move back the slightest bit backward. It couldn’t have been more than a few millimeters, but Akaashi drew back, pushing his back into the tip of Bokuto’s sword. 

He. Didn’t. Even. Have. To. Think! 5-2 had never felt so refreshing and so good! The crowd was buzzing with confusion, but who cared? Akaashi was as good as the first guy Bokuto played against, which was to say, not very good! What was Bokuto thinking though? He didn’t know! His head was all airy. 

There had to be a bicycle pump blowing his head up because Bokuto felt like smiling his face off. In a bad way! Who even knew there could be a bad way to smile that big? Well, who cared. He dove towards Akaashi for his next easy point. The airy feeling would just help his confidence.

Akaashi lowered himself further into an attacking position. His legs were the perfect stance for a lunge attack. It was quick, efficient, and very, very deadly. His sword struck Bokuto dead in the chest before Bokuto’s head blew up even more. That’s what the referees said, anyways. Bokuto was mindless until the scoreboards read 6-2. When the green lights flashed and blinded his eyes, Bokuto stood and coughed. Then he smacked his hand against his mask. 

He had gotten too cocky! Bokuto groaned and looked into Akaashi’s mask. Within it was a smile that looked too close to Kuroo’s. Quite the encouraging thing to see in a life or death match! Bokuto swallowed his pride and pointed his sword dead ahead. Akaashi was no cakewalk. Bokuto’s plans were wide open, but so were Akaashi’s. They were on even playing ground, but any mess up would cost them. Bokuto stuck his tongue out at Akaashi as they met once again on the mat. 

One breath in, one breath out. 

This time for sure! 

Bokuto stared at his sword, eying at how much it looked like a cane. It was like the ones older guys use at ballroom dances… Well, fencing wasn’t too far away from a waltz. Bokuto extended his arm for a dance, leaving the choice completely up to Akaashi. He took Bokuto’s arm in an instant, turning the fencing rally into the ballroom dance teenagers dreamed of. With every footstep Bokuto took, Akaashi pulled him back two more. Bokuto teased Akaashi into pushing his body back into a dip, leaving himself exposed, but Akaashi was just as teasing. He made Bokuto spin circles like a windup toy, taking Bokuto in his grasp. The only thing stopping them from sealing the dance with a kiss was the masks and Akaashi’s fangirls in the crowd. 

When they pulled back from the dance, breathless and sweaty, the score flickered 12-10 in Akaashi’s favor. Bokuto was so close, but time was such a fickle lady! The second break and a good 6 minutes had danced away just as Bokuto had, leaving about a minute to score 3 points. If Akaashi scored literally anything, then the game was sealed. Akaashi’s posture was less rigid than before, but still reeking with confidence. There was no telling what Akaashi would do. He could stall and win. He could recklessly score and win. This entire game was still in Akaashi’s favor, no doubt, but Bokuto could taste the victory. It teased the edges of his lips like Akaashi’s kisses, sweeter than anything. This was his challenge to win. 

The crowd was restless as the next bout started with a bang. The fatigue mingled in their footsteps, slowing every decision they made. Akaashi looked wary, his sword undecided between attacking and defending. Bokuto’s pride was unbearable, pulling him towards a risky dance. The battle was thrilling but the thought was buried in both of their heads. This had to end soon. 

Bokuto used his reach to try to end the rally with a bang, but Akaashi smacked it away. Akaashi’s play to win scheme wasn’t earning him anything, but mercy wasn’t going to win him the game. Akaashi was going to play defensive, forcing hell out of Bokuto’s hand. 

And hell he had to give. 

Playing defensive came with a weakness: you’d only have the priority if you managed to parry. There was no point in attacking if you didn’t have the priority. Bokuto jumped on this fact, pushing Akaashi towards the warning zone. Akaashi moved back with suspicious speed, almost welcoming the threat of falling off the mat. Bokuto pushed him as far as he would go before Akaashi leaped forward in attack. Akaashi lunge gave him just the right amount of reach to stay defensive yet push Bokuto back. It was obvious bait, yet the crowd’s frenzy grew wilder at the sight of it. 

Bokuto parried Akaashi’s attack, wary of everything around him. The muddiness in his head was nonexistent. His smile grew, but not from cockiness. He finally saw what Akaashi was such a sucker for. This thrill… this excitement! It was a rush nothing else could give him! 

Eyes wide with a glowing smile Bokuto lunged towards Akaashi, pushing the score to 12-11. The thrill was almost blinding, but he couldn’t stop yet, not now!

The clock read 30 seconds.

Bokuto ran towards Akaashi, twisting his arm to aim for the back. It was the first time he’s ever tried it that day. No person would be sane enough to go for it especially with such a deafening amount of time left. But the craze of the game made Bokuto’s head clear. He watched Akaashi flinch back. Akaashi’s mind seemed frantic. Bokuto watched Akaashi’s sword dive with madness towards the easiest spot for him to hit. He’d owe him a kiss or two after that.

The impact of the swords slammed against Bokuto’s ears. As his body twisted around to strike Akaashi’s back, he couldn’t help but hesitate. Gravity dragged him down, turning the score into a clean 12-12, but there was simply no time. He had 15 seconds to score another point and call the game his. 15 seconds with the most resistance Akaashi would give all game. 

It was an utterly daunting task. 

Bokuto let himself focus on his breathing. He tuned out his surroundings, listening only to the sound of his wavering breath. He wanted to shrink into the ground, but would this bloodthirsty crowd ever accept that? 

Taking the priority, Akaashi lunged as soon as the referee spoke. It’d leave him too vulnerable to do anything else, but Akaashi wasn’t totally invested in the lunge. His heels were too high off the ground! Bokuto realized it, too late, to slow. He drew his elbow away from a parry just moments before his sword hit Akaashi’s. He stumbled back, feeling gravity tug him down. He was going to fall! 

Ah, what a dumb way to lose a competition. That’s what Kuroo and Tsukishima would tell him. They stood their ground, fighting to the very last point. Kuroo didn't fall over on his last point, so Bokuto falling like that would be very, very dumb. And Akaashi, he’d kill him. It was too simple of a move to be proud of, and how foolish would that make Akaashi? Falling over was a mistake on Bokuto’s part, not a skillful move from Akaashi. A small, tiny part of Bokuto believed that Akaashi would pity Bokuto, too. The sight of Akaashi getting upset for Bokuto would be too much. 

Bokuto scraped his heel against the mat, feeling his balance falter even more. He couldn’t lose now! He pedaled backward, running until he could finally stand up straight. Akaashi followed close, and the clock trickled down. Bokuto threatened Akaashi with his sword, but how much longer did he have? He glanced at the clock. 

10 seconds. 

Akaashi would push it to play for the tiebreaker, but neither of them could suffer through the fatigue. He watched Akaashi tease the end of Bokuto’s sword. What was he supposed to do, what if he lost then and there? What if he- 

Well, he could go on and on with those “what ifs!” The one thing he could not go on about was this battle! With the next flick of Akaashi’s sword, Bokuto pushed forward, making each swing of his sword fiercer than the next. 

8 seconds. 

Akaashi was no twig to push around. He stood his ground, brushing away any attack Bokuto made. Akaashi leaped at each of Bokuto’s thoughts, destroying the time to think. 

6 seconds. 

Bokuto thrust his sword forward with half of his strength, taking the rest to brace himself for Akaashi’s parry. The weight of the entire match pushed against his sword, taking the breath out of his lungs. With utter swiftness, Akaashi slammed his heel against the ground for an arrow attack. 

3 seconds. 2 seconds. 1. 

The referee called time, the crowd the quietest they’ve been. Who was the clear victor? Did anyone score before time was called?

Bokuto wouldn’t be able to tell them himself. His sword was in Akaashi’s lower torso, but Akaashi’s sword hit his shoulder. Both red and green lights flooded the arena, leaving it up to the referee. The referee paused, then walked back to the other assistant referees. 

What had even happened…? Akaashi was in the middle of an arrow attack when it all went blurry. He looked down at Akaashi, who had taken off his mask. His hair was a mop on his head, and Akaashi, too, was blinking fast. From the corner of his eye, Bokuto could see his friends completely still. Tsukishima was holding Kuroo’s hand in a prayer position, his free hand covering his mouth. Bokuto wouldn’t let him hear the end of that. He tried to chuckle, but only wispy parts of his breath came out. The game beat him dry. 

The only thing left was for Akaashi to beat him, too. 

The referee strolled back into view, nodding at the officials behind him. Bokuto watched the crowd drop silent, watching the referee for his final decision. Bokuto wanted to stay quiet like the rest of them, but he couldn’t help how loud his breath was. His hand wiped his face, trying in vain to take the fatigue away. He followed Akaashi’s advice for most of the game, but there was no answering that question. What was Akaashi thinking? 

The referee blinked once, twice… 

…then stuck his left hand up in the air. 

Which meant… that meant...! Bokuto heard the crowd cheer, the loudest coming from right behind him. Kuroo was shouting between his laughter. Tsukishima’s smile was barely visible, but he too was laughing. Bokuto could just pick out their words. 

“You won, Bokuto!” 

Those words reached Bokuto’s arms first. They punched the air with relish. It reached his legs next, Bokuto running around and egging the crowd on to cheer more. It reached his head last, but the rest of him already knew what he wanted to do. He skidded to a halt near Akaashi, throwing off his mask and wrapping his arms around him. Akaashi’s mask flew off as Bokuto lifted him up, revealing Akaashi’s very loud and very obnoxious raspberry. 

“Bokuto, I’m really happy you won,” Akaashi said through pouty lips, “but merde! Je pensais que je t’avais bien battu!” Akaashi sucked another breath in. “I don’t know why I’m so happy though! I lost!” Bokuto laughed and gently set Akaashi down. He wrapped his arm around Akaashi’s back, pulling him close enough to whisper in his ear. 

“Would you be happier if you got a kiss for losing?” Akaashi tripped on his feet in surprise, leaving Bokuto to sweep him up. Akaashi sighed, finally letting his pout turn into a smile. The crowd broke the sound barrier as Akaashi wrapped his arms around Bokuto, pulling himself closer. As cheesy as it was, with Akaashi, fencing was the only sport that had a point. Bokuto bit his lip, hot from the adrenaline and the sight of Akaashi’s hungry gaze. 

“Let’s see if you beat me in kissing, Bokuto.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing this zlakdkfzlfgh  
> Hope y’all enjoy reading it, too!


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